


A Mourning Hymn

by Offbrand_Valk



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fix-It, Flashbacks, give sylvanas a gf 2k18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-06-20 17:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Offbrand_Valk/pseuds/Offbrand_Valk
Summary: So uhm, that post about Sylvanas having a wife and daughter gave me some feelings™, and now I’ve turned those feelings into an angsty fic, which i have no idea how to continue from.





	1. First step on a long road

There was a bright light, followed by an icy numbness spreading from her fingers to her heart. Then a terrible realization struck Delaryn.

"You brought me back!" She both screamed and sobbed.

She still couldn't see anything but bright light, but somehow she just knew the dark lady was standing right next to her, watching her silently.

"I did." Sylvanas said frankly, after what felt like an eternity of painful silence.

Delaryn screamed in agony and launched herself towards the voice, only to find herself restrained by heavy chains. She tried again, and felt the metal dig painfully into her flesh, her cold, unliving flesh. After her third attempt, she admitted defeat and whimpered. "why?"

"Because I don't waste talent." The dark lady said, again in that neutral tone that both scared and enraged Delaryn.

"I'll never serve you!" She said through gritted.

"I've heard that before." Sylvanas said with a mocking chortle, and Delaryn immediately started to worry that she was going to be proven wrong.

Her sight returned just in time to see a heavy coffin lid being placed on top of her.

 

* * *

 

Delaryn was going to fall in line, Sylvanas would make it so. a few days of sensory deprivation wouldn't do it, but it might leave her raw enough that next time they spoke, Sylvanas would know whether to use carrot or stick.

For now she could indulge herself in a bit of rest and contemplation while Saurfang oversaw the cleanup. In fact it wasn't a question of could, she had lost her temper and endangered the future of the Horde as a result. She could not afford another mistake like that, and she needed to be clearheaded as soon as the Alliance reacted.

So she returned to her tent, closed the flap and looked inwards, trying to find some clarity and wisdom.

Her mind, traitor that it was, took her back to a farm two hours walk from Silvermoon.

 

For once in what felt like a lifetime, the rain was gently pouring down over Eversong woods. Sylvanas had dragged her unit through a grueling three day long field exercise, she ached all over, was still wearing a mud and sweat stained uniform, and couldn't bring herself to care in the slightest because she was coming home.

The farm looked like itself, a little rickety, a little dirty, and the hole she had been promising to fix for years hadn't gone anywhere.

Sylvanas stood in the rain for a few seconds, soaking the harmony of it all in, almost as if she knew it would all someday be taken away from her. She knocked twice, right in the center of the door, like she had done every time before, and would continue doing until the farm was torn down.

The door opened exactly following the second knock, making Sylvanas suspect the inhabitant had been waiting behind the door to hear her knock.

The woman had long, flat black hair, a narrow nose, and the most beautiful eyes Sylvanas would ever see in her life. In her hands the woman held an infant on the edge of sleep. "She refused to take a nap until you came home." The woman explained.

The infant girl reached a small hand out towards sylvanas, who in turn reached a single finger out for her to hold unto. "Well I'm home now, so it's high time for your nap, Liera." Sylvanas said and kissed her daughter's forehead. Liera cooed and blabbered happily for a few seconds while she held her mama's finger in her tiny hand, then she fell asleep and drooled on her mom's dress.

"Has she been giving you a hard time while I was away beloved?" Sylvanas said, kissing her wife, and taking their daughter in her own arms in a single swoop.

"Not more so than usual, and unlike certain other elves I know she sees the merit of regular bathing." Her wife teased, letting Sylvanas inside her house.

"Velline Sharpvale, had I not known better, one might accuse you of making a mockery of a commander of the ranger corps, and a noble of house Windrunner no less." Sylvanas fired back, making sure to keep her voice low so as to not wake their daughter up.

"That's just how life is out here in rural country Lady Windrunner, now hand over the child and strip, you smell like an orcish barrack." Sylvanas was tempted to ask what a farm girl who had never been more than half a day's ride from her homestead knew about orcish barracks, but decided to instead simply do as instructed. Her decision might have been spurred on by the smell of her wife's cooking coming from the kitchen.

 

Sylvanas never did manage to bathe that night. Once they had put Liera to bed, dinner was almost ready, so they might as well sit on the porch and wait for it to finish.

After dinner they automatically moved back on the porch with two cups of mulled wine, and listened to the rain.

Next thing they knew, Liera was up and demanding to be fed and entertained.

One thing kept leading to another, until suddenly the family of three were cuddled together in bed, with Sylvanas reading aloud from The Silvermoon Town Musicians. "The distraught highwayman returned to his captain and told him what he'd seen". Sylvanas paused dramatically, and continued in a silly, overly coarse voice. "There's a banshee in the house captain! As I entered she spat and scratched my face with her long nails. When I tried to run an assassin stabbed me in the leg, and in the stables an ogre was waiting to clobber me! All the while the ranger general sat on the roof screaming: stop the thief! stop the thief!" She made sure to imitate a rooster as best she could for the final part, making both Velline and Liera burst out laughing.

 

* * *

 

Sylvanas was brutally ripped from her memories by the voice of Nathanos Blightcaller. "Warchief."

There was a clear sign of embarrassment in his tone, so whatever it was, it wasn't the alliance counterattack, but something he should be able to take care of on his own. "What?" She sneered.

"There has been a complication in the sacking of Teldrassil." If this turned out to be grunts arguing over who saw a knife first, or a salvage ship running behind schedule, she swore she was going to strangle Nathanos with his own intestinal cord.

"well?" She said standing up from her position on the floor and slinging her bow over her shoulder.

"There is a girl warchief, a night elf girl." Sylvanas was going to need to think of something more painful than getting strangled with one's own intestines for Nathanos.

"So? Put her on a prison ship to Orgrimmar with the other survivors, or cut her loose and let nature take its course. I don't much care one way or the other, just get her off Teldrassil." Every time she thought those beneath her had reached peak idiocy, they found a new way to disappoint her.

"That's the problem warchief, she has a knife and is refusing to move." Sylvanas swore under her breath and accepted this was just going to be a thing she would have to deal with personally.

 

The girl had holed up in the smoldering remains of a hollow root with some rations and a couple of paintings, and was waving the knife at anyone who got close.

Sylvanas could tell the girl didn't know how to wield her weapon, and nothing would have been easier than simply knocking it from her hand and overpowering her. For reasons she didn't understand herself however, she didn't.

Instead she moved slowly forward with her open palms outstretched, and asking for her name in broken Darnassian. When the girl didn't even acknowledge her presence, she tried again, and on the 3rd try she finally got the girl to whisper out "Netha Fairsong."

"Netha listen to me, this is not a fight you can win, put down the knife, and we can find a way to solve this without anymore bloodshed." Where her sudden gentleness had come from, Sylvanas didn't know, but it was clearly working, so she decided not to look a gift wolf in the mouth.

Slowly, Netha lowered her weapon and placed it on the ground. Some of Sylvanas' soldiers moved forward to seize her, but were stopped in their tracks by Sylvanas' outstretched arm. "So let's negotiate the terms of your surrender." She said twice, first in Darnassian, then in Orcish so that no one would think she was acting outside the horde's best interesses.

That was when the girl did something unexpected...

She ran forward and hugged Sylvanas!


	2. The map with which you found her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is now a multi chapter fic, still no idea where its going hoooo boy this is gonna be interesting

"Beloved." A sultry voice whispered in her ear, as the smell of spring flowers reached her nose.

Sylvanas grunted loudly and sat straight up in her chair, to the confusion of the assembled war council. An angry glare stopped the questions in their track, and made Lor'themar return to outlining his plan as he awkwardly tried to pretend nothing had happened.

 

A worse time for her to be stuck reminiscing could scantly come. The Alliance was marching on Tirisfal, forsaken were once more losing their homes, and the horde was relying on her to safely weather the storm.

Yet all she could think about was a voice like summer rain, and a girl who loved to dance more than anything else in life.

After her death she had made an effort not to think about her wife and daughter. They were in a better place, and she would never be able to join them because of her curse. Grieving achieved nothing, this much she knew.

 

The meeting adjourned, Sylvanas having only registered every third word. This wouldn't do! Now most of all, she needed to show the horde strength and determination, not a foolish woman pining for love long lost.

Her outburst by Teldrassil had been the start, provocation, anger, and fear had all formed together into a desperate gamble, and resurrected an old flame in her memory.

She had been foolish back then, arrogant, egoistic even. She hadn't seen the bigger picture, had tried to win a war on half-measures, and for what? Rabbit and Dragonhawk stew? Some long steamy nights? The illusion of Highelven sensibilities?

She grabbed a dagger off the war table, and flung it at a nearby pillar, burying it halfway to the hilt in the wood. It made her feel better, if only a little bit.

 

Sylvanas pulled the dagger from the wall and started pacing around the room, surely there was something useful she could spend her time on. Running her finger along paths on the map, she tried to put herself in the thoughts of a boy king on his campaign, and all she found was nostalgia. 

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was bearing down on Sylvanas from above, her brand new ranger cloak turning the heat from horrendous to nearly unbearable.

She had no idea where she was other than: hopefully still somewhere in Eversong woods. Their captain was a firm believer in teaching people to swim by throwing them in a river, and just for fun she had decided Sylvanas should participate in the day’s exercise without a team or map.

The teams had been left in different parts of the woods, and told to track down a fictional monster based on clues left by the captain. If they didn't find the monsters' "lair" by sundown they would spend the night doing push-ups. Considering how it had gone so far for Sylvanas, she was already conserving energy in preparation.

 

"Hey there miss ranger ma'am" A voice spoke out from behind her, Sylvanas screamed and flailed undignified as she fell off the tree trunk she had been sulking on.

The voice behind her giggled, and Sylvanas instantly forgot to be angry that she had snuck up on and embarrassed her.

When she turned around to face the voice Sylvanas also forgot her name, the task at hand, and about 95% of the Thalassian language. "I'm... uhm... I'm.... Girl."

"I can see that" The woman laughed again a little louder this time, and Sylvanas was certain: she was going to die, right then and there, her heart simply couldn't stand the sight of a smile that pretty.

Realizing that her heart had not in fact burst open from seeing a pretty girl, she became hyper aware that she was lying on the ground with a stupid expression on her face, and scampered on her feet.

"I mean, I'm Sylvanas Windrunner, aspirant to the ranger corps, how can I help you citizen!" She hadn't meant to yell, and now she was quietly hoping the ground would open up and devour her before she had to say another word.

"Oh nothing, I just saw you sitting there all by your lonesome and got curious. Usually when you guys are out here on mission or whatever you call it, you're in groups with your heads buried in maps, not sulking on tree stumps." Sylvanas listened deeply as she tried to adjust her uniform to make herself presentable.

"I may have, ahem, gotten slightly lost." Sylvanas was not trained to show weakness, however she also hadn't been trained to maintain composure in front of pretty ladies with round noses and brown-black hair.

"Well lucky for you then that you know a local girl." The woman that was likely to be the death of Sylvanas said, and offered her arm in a poor imitation of a noble girl asking to be chaperoned at a ball.

"I am almost certain that would be against the rule lady?.." Nonetheless Sylvanas took her arm, and started walking forward.

 

"Oh uhm Sharpvale, Velline Sharpvale, though I firmly believe this is the first, last, and only time anyone will ever call me a lady."

"Why might that be lady Sharpvale?" Where Sylvanas had found the courage to tease this ethereal beauty she did not know.

Velline looked down, and ran her fingers self-consciously through her hair. "Well first and foremost there's the matter of my noble birth or lack thereof, not to mention my inability to curtsy, or go more than a few hours without talking about boogers, and of course the..." She stopped mid sentence and nervously giggled to herself. "The, uhm, the sharpness of my ears."

Sylvanas deferred to her court training to hide the few seconds she spent processing. She wasn't bothered by Velline being trans, not in the slightest, it just surprised her due to how well she passed, which Sylvanas quickly realized said more about herself than it did Velline.

"Well I think your ears look perfectly feminine just the way they are." Was that the right thing to say? Sylvanas wasn't sure, but Velline did perk notably up on hearing it.

"Why thank you lady Windrunner. Now about this quest of yours, what exactly are the rules." Velline sent her a conspiratorial grin.

"Exercise actually, but same difference I guess."

 

The pair walked together in no particular direction, Sylvanas outlined the rules of the exercise, and together they looked for loopholes. They parted ways only when they absolutely had to, Sylvanas feeling like she had left a part of heart behind, and promising she would visit as soon as she next had leave.

It was with no small amount of glee Sylvanas entered the clearing a full hour before any of the properly equipped team. When her captain asked how in the world she had got there first (the part about her disadvantages went loudly unmentioned) she calmly explained:

"I realized that since the monster has been troubling the area for some time, my time would be better spend interviewing people local to the area than try to look for broken branches. Turns out the monster has returned to camp in this exact clearing around this time every year for the last 14 years. Most curious wouldn't you say."

 

* * *

 

 

Sylvanas grinned to herself, Velline had always been good at making her misbehave, even though she herself had been the picture of good behavior. She knew she should be happy Velline and Liera was spared undeath, yet right now, Sylvanas thought she could really use her council.

Velline had been many things but never a strategist. Maybe that was why she kept haunting her and distracting her from tactics, because the answer wasn't to be found in troop movements and supply chains.

It was little more than trying to excuse a gut feeling Sylvanas could admit as much to herself, what was the harm though? The war council had been adjourned for the night, and she didn't need sleep.

 

Without an escort she walked the streets of Undercity, she didn't have a goal, only the vague notion that she thought better while walking.

She passed by a forsaken man sitting on a bridge and fishing from a sewer. Sylvanas recognized him as a carpenter by the name Marius Winther, he had been with the forsaken since they first joined the horde, and had been very helpful in making Undercity hospitable. If her memory wasn't far off he had retired following the defeat of the lich king, many forsaken had lost their fighting spirit after their great revenge.

On impulse Sylvanas sat down next to him. "Dark lady." he greeted her with a nonchalant tip of his bucket hat. "Marius." She replied with a nod, and he continued fishing in silence.

"Do you give lessons?" She asked apropos of nothing.

Marius scratched his chin in thought. "Truth be told, there isn't much of a trick to it, there's still blight in these waters and it's clouding the fishes judgement. All you have to do is wait until they think they've won, and take it home."

That was the strike of inspiration she needed. "Marius Winther, the horde owes you a debt of gratitude." She said and rushed off to gather the war council.


	3. Hooked on all these feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote something very snorft to help me beat writers block, and all of a sudden i got an idea for how to continue this fic.

"Mef!" Velline yowled in a manner so cute, Sylvanas nearly melted on the spot.

She forced herself to put on a stern face as she loomed over her sleepy girlfriend. "You'll have to be more coherent than that if you want to me understand what you're saying."

"Morning breath." Velline scrunched up her face and glared at Sylvanas for emphasis.

Sylvanas just laughed and asked: "Now whose fault would that be?" Causing Velline to turn red as a tomato and hide beneath the blanket with a "meep!". Even after 2 years of short, intense burst of romance, Velline still had trouble talking about their sex life. Sylvanas found it adorable, but she also knew she was walking a thin line between teasing her, and making her uncomfortable and dysphoric when she spoke about sex.

In that specific case however, Velline was making it very clear she was embarrassed, not uncomfortable, so Sylvanas snuggled beneath the blankets, pulled her into a tight embrace, and started playing with her hair.

 

* * *

 

 

Sylvanas was nervous for the first time in her life. She had been tense before sure, scared too, but nervous? never! And she had no idea how to deal with it. She was dressed as well as she could justify with a 5-hour ride ahead of her. The small, reasonably priced armband (flowers wouldn't survive the trip) was stored safely in her best bag, that she had carefully slung over her shoulder. Everything was in order, and she was as prepared as she would ever be.

And by the Sunwell was she having second thoughts!

For one she was frightfully unaware of the ways of the common folk, for all she knew she might have mistaken polite disdain for affection. Furthermore there was the risk she wouldn't be amicable to having friends outside her class. Not to mention she had no idea if Velline even liked girls!

She had meant to start riding at the crack of dawn, that was 2 hours ago, which meant she had spent 2 and a half hour sitting fully dressed on her bed staring at the doorframe.

"Where are you going all dressed up like that?" Sylvanas' much beloved older sister asked as she tried and failed to sneak through the common room on her way to the stables.

"To Kalimdor to burn down the world tree, where else?!" She yelled back, and hurried off before Alleria had a chance to remind her "lying is a sin!"

Sylvanas really needed to pick up knife throwing as a hobby again.

 

The Windrunners were famous not only for their bravery but also their skill as pathfinders. Something that was evident from how Sylvanas had gotten lost no less than 12 times on her way from Windrunner spire to the Sharpvale farm (in her defense, the signage in the area was really poor).

She hadn't visited the farm, but during their previous and only meeting she had listened very intently to Velline's description. Along the way she was supposed to pass through a small village, and the people there couldn't get out of her way fast enough. At first Sylvanas thought they were being extraordinarily rude to a stranger, then she noticed the way they all stared at her cloak pin. The pin that signified her membership of house Windrunner.

Asking for directions got her nowhere, people were too busy either groveling or whimpering to give her a proper answer. When she finally got one person to talk, he sent her in the completely wrong direction, and when she came back he was nowhere to be found.

 

"Hey lady Windrunner!" Velline's voice came from the edge of the tiny town square, and Sylvanas immediately perked up. When their eyes met, she practically melted right out of her saddle.

Velline stopped a few steps from her and asked. "To what do I owe the honor." Without a hint of familiarity in her voice. She wasn't even looking directly at Sylvanas!

Sylvanas heart sank, maybe Velline had only helped her out of a sense of obligation. Should she just leave and not make things more awkward than they were? No she at least owed her an explanation, no matter how much she wanted to disappear into the shadows and never return. "I... I was hoping I might speak to you again."

Velline's eyes grew as big as teacups. "Me? Velline Sharpvale? Little old farmgirl me? That me? are you sure you got the right me?" Her voice was equal parts disbelief and confusion.

"You were the one who helped me find my way in Eversong a few weeks ago? Right?" Sylvanas was starting to doubt herself, even though Velline's face had been in her dreams every night since that day.

"Oh!" Velline said, unaware of the pitch in her voice. "Yes, that was me!.. I thought you had forgotten."

Gracelessly exiting the saddle as fast as she could, it was a small wonder Sylvanas didn't injure herself in her rush to grab Velline's hands. Looking deeply into the other woman's eyes Sylvanas said, with all the passion and pride in her being so that Velline would know it was the naked truth: "Never."

Velline gasped, then started hyperventilating, then before Sylvanas had a chance to react, passed out and hit the cobblestone... Hard.

 

When Velline awoke, she was lying on her side with the most beautiful woman she had ever seen looking down at her with care. "Will you marry me?" Was the first thing on her mind, and judging by the angel's shocked expression she had accidentally said it out loud! If the ground could just go ahead and swallow her up that would be great.

The woman, oh sunwell she was wearing a Windrunner pin Velline was going to die, began retching, or maybe choking. "I... I don't know what to say... Yes?"

Velline felt a lot of emotions all at once, most of which were too powerful to describe with mortal words.

Eventually however Velline came to her sense and realized the gravity of what she had just said. "Call me progressive but should we perhaps get to know each other a bit before we start looking for rings."

Sylvanas looked at the ground, feeling guilty about her enthusiasm. "Yes that is probably for the best." Her backpack shifted slightly, almost as if to remind her of the bracelet's presence. "I guess it would be inappropriate of me to give you this already then?" She said, and slowly pulled the simple accessory from her bag.

"No, I'm gonna hold it and cherish it forever!" Velline answered and snatched the bracelet from Sylvanas' hand with the speed of a loosened arrow.

 

* * *

 

 

"The tapeworm demands food" Sylvanas said, trying to look extra pitiful as she dragged herself into the kitchen.

Her wife however had no mercy to spare for her, and thwacked her (on the shoulder) with a wooden spoon soon as she came within range. "I told you to stop calling her that!"

Quickly dodging out of range, Sylvanas feigned insult as she fired back. "Why not?" Then, rubbing her 3-months pregnant belly for emphasis added. "It clearly is a very vicious tapeworm, look at me, I'm all swollen."

"No! she is gonna be a blessing, and the greatest thing that's ever happened to us!"

"I'm sure she is." Sylvanas nodded in agreement, before making sure she was safely in cover from flying kitchenware. "Once she stops giving me morning sickness and mood swings!"

Instead of a flying spatula, Velline sent her an understanding smile. Suspecting a trap, Sylvanas cautiously poked her head out. "If you really can't wait for dinner, then let me see about digging some bread out from under the cupboards.

 

After she had gotten pregnant, Velline had begun doing all the kitchen work stopping just short of spoonfeeding her. At first Sylvanas had felt weird about it, but she had come to realize it was just Velline's maternal instincts that had kicked into overdrive, It was either this or drowning in knitwear.

"The tapeworm is sated, thank you." Sylvanas said with a smug grin once she was done eating.

"Nooooooo." Velline cried out. "You need to cherish her."

Sylvanas began chanting. "Tape-worm! Tape-worm! Tape-worm!"

Velline made her biggest sad puppy eyes until Sylvanas stopped, then went back to cooking.

 

Over dinner Velline made one last valiant attempt to get rid of her wife's terrible nickname for their daughter-to-be. "Would it help if we agreed on a name for her."

"She already has a name." Sylvanas said, mouth full of potatoes and soup. "Tapeworm Sharpvale-Windrunner."

"Don't think I won't cut you just because you're high nobility and the mother of my child Sylvanas Windrunner!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No promises for when the next chapter will be coming hopefully within a week or 2


	4. Your Precious Vulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought I had given up on this fic!
> 
> Nope just needed about a month to bang my head against a wall to get it mentally back on track.

"I will never get over seeing a Windrunner casually striding up the road to our home, you certainly know how to pick them Velline."

"Mooom, she can hear you." Velline was a fully-grown woman, though under her mom's friendly teasing, she tended to forget that.

"If you would prefer my ladies Sharpvale, in the future I can arrive by climbing over the chicken coop." Her girlfriend said, before grabbing Velline around the waist and pulling her in for a gentle kiss full of longing.

"And this right here, is the reason it's so important we get that roof patched up." Silra said, feigning disgust.

 

The Sharpvale farm was, in Sylvanas honest opinion, a glorified ruin. She had in the past joked that a stiff breeze would knock it over, then two weeks ago a storm had blown in and proved her right. Now there was an ogre-sized hole in the roof over the master bedroom and kitchen.

Sylvanas had offered to pay for the repairs, had offered to pay for renovations in the past as well, every time she had been denied. She had tried to explain to Velline and her mother it would literally cost her less than she usually spend on a coat to rebuild the farm from the ground up, but Silra wouldn't hear of it.

With that in mind, helping the Sharpvale women repair the damages felt like the least she could do.

 

When they began working, Sylvanas quickly realized she would need to do most of the hard work. Velline was a danger to herself and her surroundings with a hammer, and her mother was. Still, the weather was nice, and they made a good pace.

An hour into the work Sylvanas noticed Silra yawning but didn't pay it much attention. Not 20 minutes later she dropped the plank she was carrying, and stood still on the spot looking dizzy. Velline hurried to her mother's side.

Sylvanas watched the situation unfold, ready to step in, yet unsure what was appropriate for her. "Mom, remember how you said you hadn't slept so well last since we have to share a room. How about you take a nap, and me and Nas can keep working." Silra glared at her for a moment, then relented and went to the surviving bedroom.

 

They worked in comfortable silence for a while. "She's sick, very sick. She thinks if she doesn't admit it, it won't get worse. This week has taken its toll on her." Velline spoke gently, almost in a whisper, and definitely more to the floorboards than Sylvanas.

"I am sorry to hear that, say the word and I'll have the best healer in Silvermoon brought out here." Sylvanas was only half-joking in her eagerness.

"Please don't, she likes you now, if you start making a fuss about her it will ruin that." Velline said apologetically, as if any of it was her fault. "I wish she would just let other care about her for a change, but this has been going on for years, since before I met you, and its only getting worse."

Sylvanas put down her tools and turned with open arms to her girlfriend who fell into the hug. Velline sobbed gently into her shirt, Sylvanas ran her fingers through her hair, the way she knew she liked and waited for her to talk of her own accord. "I'm just, I'm afraid of being alone. She keeps talking about how much she misses dad, what if one day she just gives up fighting to be with him again?"

"Shh my love, your mother is a strong woman, she has lasted this long, it will take more than some stiff weather and a few cold nights to get rid of her." Sylvanas smiled as their eyes met and Velline wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Besides, if she gets much worse, she won't be able to protest when I bring in the healers right."

"Harh!" Velline chuckled loudly, in a manner Velline herself hated, but which Sylvanas found terrifically cute. "You only think that because you haven't known her long enough. No trust me that woman will go into the grave complaining we spent too much money on her tomb stone!"

Inappropriate as the comment was, it made them both feel a little better, and helped them get back into the swing of working.

  


* * *

 

 

"The next time I visited the Sharpvale farm, it was to help Velline burry her mother, I hadn't been gone for 3 months."

"There you have it Rotskull: I've been involuntarily reminiscing and it's interfering with my work. There's your precious vulnerability, now tell me how to get rid of it!" Sylvanas was sitting upright in the chaise lounge, glaring daggers at the senior psychologist.

Joan Rotskull was likely the best psychologist in existence, it wasn't bravado, just simple facts. After Sylvanas had freed them from the Lich Kings control, Joan and the few other healers they had with them were stuck fighting an invisible, omni-present, and seemingly incurable disease: grief. The Forsaken had all as one lost friends and families, often to their own unwilling hands, and the sadness that carried had nearly brought their fledgling culture to its knees. In life she had been a lay-about second-rate healer that people tried their hardest to avoid treatment from. In death she had become one of the greatest in her field, cited far and wide in Azeroth, she was allowed a modicum of bravado.

Now she had to explain to her queen and warchief how her trauma wouldn't magically disappear after 27 minutes of therapy, 14 of which were spent explaining why expecting psychological ailments to disappear on their own wasn't a reasonable tactic. "I'm sorry dark lady, but unlike what some of my so-called colleagues might claim, the Forsaken mind is not so easily quantifiable. Just from the biological perspective your flash backs could be caused by anything from localized brainrot to a bungled healing spell having improperly connected neurons."

Sylvanas frown grew bigger. "Very well, what is the worst-case scenario."

Usually when Joan was asked that question, she tried to calm her client, in this particular case she thought a scare tactics might be better not just for Sylvanas but for the horde at large. "That the dark magic holding you together has started to deteriorate, causing your mind and body to slowly tear itself apart." It wasn't strictly speaking a lie, that exact thing had happened in the past, though mostly to those who had been hastily or shoddily risen, not someone whose reanimation and preservation had been done with as much care as Sylvanas'.

Her frown turned into a single raised eyebrow. "And what would a qualified guess sound like."

Joan shrugged, well aware she was about to give Sylvanas some advice she was not going to like. "Off the top of my head? Unexamined trauma that's finally catching up to you."

Sylvanas dug her nails into the edge of the chaise lounge. "I don't like what you're implying _Joan_ "

Joan remained motionless, simply stating "Okay. That will not change my evaluation, so what would you like me to do with this information."

 

For 10 more minutes Sylvanas and Joan Rotskull snarked back and forth, until the banshee queen gave up on getting an easy solution to her problem. Joan was every bit as stubborn as she was competent, it was why Sylvanas had asked for her by name, most Forsaken would have told her what she wanted to hear.

 She was no closer to solving Velline's mysterious reappearance in her mind, but as Warchief she had only so much time she could spent indulging her own past demons.

Undercity had been lost, but it had gone down swinging, as the citizen of Lordaeron fought tooth and nail to not lose their homes a second time.

Her alliance with the Zandalari was going nowhere fast, the ancient empire was too caught up in their own infighting and pride to even allow her a proper meeting with Rastakhan yet. She had dispatched a few key assets, including Tattersail, Bloodhoof and Rokhan. For the time being the situation was being taken care of without her needing to micromanage.

Then there was the issue of the revolutionaries-to-be: Varok Saurfang and Cahlia Menethil.

Saurfang's heart was in the right place, his naivety and inability to recognize Sylvanas as his senior by more than 500 years was the problem. He also had the support of much of the horde old guard, the same old guard that not so long ago had formed the core of the Kor'Kron

Cahlia was a different beast altogether, simply because of how little concrete information about her Sylvanas had been able to obtain. It was possible she had shown up unannounced to the meet with the best of intentions (though Sylvanas doubted it), unaware how her actions might be seen as inciting revolt. It was also possible that Greymane had manipulated her into attending, in an attempt to weaken the Forsaken. Perhaps she herself had masterminded the whole meet as some sort of harebrained bid for the decrepit throne of Lordaeron. Whatever the case she was currently preoccupied adapting to unlife, a fate Sylvanas found strangely poetic.

That just left the issue of her night elf prisoners, 2 problems with no easy answer.

 

Nobody, including Sylvanas herself, had really known what to do with Netha Fairsong. The burning of Teldrassil was meant to be a battle with no prisoners taken, yet once the dust had settled, and the ramifications of her actions had set in, nobody was ready to take a blade to a child.

She had more than once contemplated simply cutting the child free, and letting her fend for herself. Kalimdor was big, and most of it was controlled by the Horde, however Sylvanas knew that groups of rogue sentinels still prowled Darkshore and the surrounding area. In fact it was these rogue sentinels that had kept her from pursuing this plan. Putting herself in their spot, they were no doubt both tired and desperate, a mysterious child showing up weeks after the burning of Teldrassil would be suspicious to say the least, and the rogue sentinels might do something drastic.

For the time being, Netha was being taken care of by a Dark Spear shaman, and her Forsaken wife. It was a temporary solution, not because of concerns from her host family, but because Sylvanas, for all her failings, would not steal a child away from their culture.

At least Delaryn and her company were safely stowed away in stasis coffins, until Sylvanas had a chance to turn them in favor of the Horde. That was one particularly nasty band-aid she was not looking forward to rip off.

 

* * *

 

The floor of Scholomance was cold and sticky.

She didn't remember what dying felt like, but she knew the second time felt different.

Dark, coagulated blood sprang from the hole in her chest, and she couldn't help herself thinking "well it wasn't like I was using it anyways."

What a time to accept your curse. With mere moments left to live.

Armored shoes clanked against the stone floor somewhere out of sight. A coarse voice tsk'ed at her once.

"You ought to be more careful Lillian." Came the voice of Sylvanas Windrunner, as she lifted her off the floor.

 

* * *

 

Lillian was only intending to spend a single night in Ogrimmar, two days at the most. Big cities had never exactly been her forte, she was just stopping by to make sure her Undercity friends had made it to safety, and maybe check up on a couple of cold cases.

Housing was at the moment in short supply, except to those with money. Lillian luckily still had some windfall left from her time with the Uncrowned, much of which she was forced to spend on covering her stay in the valley of honor.

 

"Hey Ugly Girl!" A familiar voice called out to Lillian as she entered the inn, and she started sprinting towards it, preparing for a tacklehug. She ground to a halt halfway across the floor, as she remembered Sylvanas' "no hugging in public" rule and walked the last few paces as if nothing had happened.

The two women met each other's eyes, Sylvanas giving Lillian the time and space to make the first move. "I've missed you." Suddenly Sylvanas surged forward and planted a big, wet kiss on Lillian's forehead, then quickly returned to her previous position as if nothing had happened. "I've missed you too Ugly." She admitted after another three seconds.

Lillian grinned at the nickname, nobody but Sylvanas would think to give a traumatized 17 year old struggling with self-image that kind of nickname, no one but Sylvanas could make it sound comforting either.

"So what have you been up to? Have you had work done?" Lillian asked, sat down in the seat next to Sylvanas, and gestured to the screws keeping her right arm in place.

"Just a little touch up, and I think you know very well what I've been _up to_ as of late." Sylvanas could be very hard to read when she really wanted to, and right now she apparently wanted to Lillian concluded with an inward sigh.

"I've been hearing rumors-" Sylvanas interrupted her: "Most of which are no doubt true." causing Lillian to glower at her in annoyance. "I've been hearing rumors, and I'm not sure how I feel about them."

Sylvanas gestured for her to continue. "You know I've been trying to keep my head out of this entire Horde and Alliance conflict for as long as I could, I would be lying if I said some of the things you did hasn't lessened my opinion of you." The dark lady made no move to protest or defend her actions, Lillian respected that about her.

"Still, you wouldn't be here if you didn't think I could be won over" Lillian guessed, much as she loved Sylvanas for the emotional support she had given her, business was usually where the conversation turned sour.

"I don't begrudge you for thinking that of me, but for once I really did just come because I missed talking to you." Reaching into a small pocket, Sylvanas pulled out a rusty metal key, plain except for the rotting silk handkerchief it was wrapped in. "And to give you this." Lillian almost wanted to be insulted that Sylvanas thought she needed a key that simple.

"I am most likely living on borrowed time." Lillian reached out to protest but was stopped by a gesture from Sylvanas. "Please spare me the reassuring words, I know the fragility of my situation better than most, and I have accepted it. Part of accepting the possibility of my death is making preparations for my absence."

Lillian had no idea where the dark lady was going, but she had a bad feeling. "I will not choose my own successor, and I have long since given up on having a say in what you do, but I need you to know that if you put your mind to it, you would make a good banshee queen."

If her tear ducts were not rotten through, Lillian was sure she would have tears running down her cheeks. She didn't care about the endorsement, wasn't ready to begin to process it, but the very notion of Sylvanas dying? It seemed absurd, she was too stubborn to die, too strong to, she was supposed to outlive all of Azeroth!

"So if this isn't part of a scheme, then what's the key for?" Lillian asked, focusing on the present, rather than getting scolded for being caught up in silly emotions. "A house, in the south eastern Eversong Woods. It's hardly an impressive structure, and it has nothing of value save for a few pieces of old silverware, assuming looters haven't gotten to them by now."

This was new, was Sylvanas... nervous? No that was absurd! "It's not really much, but it's yours if you want it. In life I meant for it to be given to my daughter when she came of age, I recently realized that happened years ago, just not in the way I expected."

 

There was a large stigma against mocking Forsaken for their facial expressions due to the limited control they had over it. Lillian had never been happier for that stigma, as she felt like her jaw had have come off and started tumbling around on the ground.

"I'm, not sure I understand dark lady." That was a lie, but Lillian needed to hear Sylvanas say it herself before she could believe it. "I am, in my own needlessly complex way, asking to adopt you, if you would have me."

Lillian stood up from her chair, snatching the key from Sylvanas' hands before she could reconsider. "What sort of question is that Sylvanas? Of course I want to be your daughter." She wasn't sure if her next question would be a mood killer, but it was never too early to start fighting with your mom. "What happened to _I will not choose my own successor_ though?"

"Consider this a ringing endorsement." Sylvanas replied with a smirk that told Lillian she was aware of her hypocrisy, and didn't let herself be too bothered by it.

 

* * *

 

Velline felt numb.

Numb in body, numb in mind.

As if her soul was simultaneously torn from her body, and struggling to be free.

She was dead... and yet, not?

Then she heard a voice.

A voice that cut through all the pain, and all the noise.

A single voice which she would never forget.

The voice of someone who needed her dearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters coming up in anywhere between 2 days and 6 months...

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr @offbrand-valk
> 
> I am very open to suggestions as to where to go with this fic, cause i feel like there's more meat on it.


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